There's no "C" in Anaheim

Forget skydiving. Don't bother with bungie jumping or hang gliding. For a real adventure, take a ride on bus route 43 at night.

I needed to take the bus to Disneyland to meet some friends so we could watch the fireworks and hang out afterwards. Without a car, this meant riding the bus. OCTA's route 43 is a short walk from my home and requires only one bus from Costa Mesa to Anaheim. I ride the bus to work almost every workday, so I didn't think anything about taking the bus at night. My thoughts on this have changed since Saturday night.

My ex-wife dropped by to pick up Rece, so I bummed a ride from her to the shopping center where my bus stop was to pick me up at about 9:00 pm. As I began to cross the parking lot, a young guy, I'm guessing around 24, came around the corner riding a skateboard and was apparently talking to me. Having not heard what he said, I asked "Excuse me?"

He replied "No man, I don't want to have anything to do with whatever's going down here, man. I'm just a harmless white guy, man."

Assuming he thought something illegal was afoot, I explained, "Naw, bro, it's not like that. That's my ex and my kid."

Not one bit fazed by this, the guy just continued, "Oh, well I don't know about that, man, I just don't want any part of it, don't get me involved."

It was at this point that he came into close enough range (and dangerous proximity) that I was then able to observe that he was holding a large maglite flashlight, rather tightly - and with the butt-end out. I moved a couple of steps away from the direction he was rolling and flashed him the hippy peace sign, saying, "Peace and love, bro. Peace and love." He passed by without further incident, still muttering to himself.

The bus was running on time and I was happy to get off the street, considering the previous incident, only to notice a large group of 'hoodies' at the back of the bus. For those who don't know, a 'hoodie' is sometimes used in reference to the gang-banger, tattoed and hard-ass looking guys who wear hooded sweatshirts. Having gone to continuation school during high school, I knew better than to make eye contact and simply found a seat towards the front of the bus.

At the next stop, a man in a wheel chair got on the bus. The bus driver asked him how long he had waited, to which the man replied "About 45 minutes. The last bus stopped, let off people, didn't take anybody else on and drove off." Not seeming to be surprised by this, the bus driver apologized to the man for his wait and got on the radio to inform the OCTA Operations and Command Center (I made up that name).

The man in the wheel chair was a nice enough fellow, so I asked him if he thought the previous bus driver had wigged out or something. He didn't know, but complained about the pain in his knee. I asked him what had happened to it and he said that he got hit by a car while crossing a street back in 1979. He then went on to tell me about getting hit by another car (while in the wheelchair) not too long ago. "You think my knee looks bad, check this out" and proceeded to pull down his sock to display a gaping wound about an inch in diameter and at least an inch deep. Fortunately I don't get grossed out easily, but the sight of this did surprise me - not to mention making me wonder why he felt the need to show it to me, a complete stranger. He got off the bus about a mile away from where he had boarded.

Not long after the wheelchair man left the bus, a gal got on, huffing from the sprint across a parking lot to catch the bus (and her physical size). She was lady-like and must have been a regular on the route, as she said "Shit, make my fat ass run through wet grass to catch you!" to the bus driver. Once boarded, she looked at the group of hoodies in the back and exclaimed, "did I get on the wrong bus or something" and sat in the front seat. About 5 minutes passed and, for what seemed like absolutely no reason, she whipped her head around looking towards the back of the bus screaming, "What the fuck did you say? You better as HELL not be talkin' 'bout me!" She continued by muttering something about today not being a good day to mess with her. I'm sure she'll make some guy very happy some day.

At the same stop the screaming lady disembarked, another woman boarded, quietly sobbing to herself. She must have been quite distraught, as her purse looked as though she had walked through a field of sprinklers. The poor thing didn't stop crying her entire trip, getting off somewhere near Disneyland. The fireworks had already started, but they did nothing to lift her spirits.

I got off the bus and made my way to the Disney Promenade and met my friends to finish watching the fireworks display. Smiley face and cube-shaped fireworks? Neat! I'll have to come back earlier some day soon, so I can watch the entire show.

OCTA's route 43 is one of their 24-hour routes. If it's this looney between 9:00 and 9:35 pm, I can't imagine how much more interesting it is through the middle of the night.

This entry brought to you by Capt Jack and his electronic orchestra.